


Collection of Stories in Darcia

by SacrificedtoRNGesus



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28861521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SacrificedtoRNGesus/pseuds/SacrificedtoRNGesus
Summary: Just a writing thing Im working on. Will be working on short character stories. Probably no one's reading this anyway.





	1. Vyre, the Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, if you really wanna read this, have fun.

The land was as twisted as he was, dying trees and dead silence spanning all the way to the horizon. The only sound that filled the air was the tap of his cane and the cracking of dead leaves underfoot, and even the usually unfazed Rettsfer seemed a bit nervous, gnawing lightly at her bottom lip. It was a hellish place, one that fully lived up to its name of Zuvir, and it seemed like Vyre couldn't have been happier. There was a pep in his step, a tempo that made it seem like he was dancing with the god of death itself. 

“You should focus more, my liege. This is not a trip for pleasure.” The gravelly voice of Deferig punctuated the air, with a boom that was only amplified by his mask. “We are here to hunt down the monster that has been terrorizing the hillsides, remember? The sooner we deal with it, the better.”

Vyre only smiled, a wide grin tempered by equal parts madness and brilliance. “Not hunt, Deferig. Recruit. I'm going to recruit her to our team by making her an offer that cannot be refused.” Swiveling around on his good foot, he kicked up a joyful storm of foliage as he waited for the other two to catch up. “There’s no need to worry. Both of you are protecting me, after all.”

Carefully picking the leaves out of her hair and blindfold, Rettsfer spoke again with a gentle voice laced with concern. “Princeling, what if it goes wrong? What if we cannot protect you?” Deferig chimed in as well, his mask covering the worry on his face. “You are the next in line to the throne. If anything happens to Margel-”

“My sister will be fine. I have yet to meet a single creature, human or not, who can match her ferocity on the battlefield and her popularity off it. And it will work out. I convinced both of you without bloodshed, did I not?” Knowing that they had no good response, Vyre spun back around and began his trek once again, the pep in his step returned. Soon, it would be time for him to meet his fellow abomination.


	2. A Day in the life of Imrala

When she was not holed up in the library studying ancient texts, Imrala spend her valuable time staring at the sky and watching clouds that were as lazy as she was. It was her way of zoning out and freeing her mind of all the judging eyes and haughty attitudes that most of the others at the academy had, a result of the divide between noble and commoner. In a school where most of the students attendants were of higher birth than she was, people like her were oddities who drew stares and whispers. Just as she was about to drift off to a peaceful sleep, the jarring noise of a voice she knew much too well dug itself into her ears and shot her wide awake. 

“Yooooo, lazy head. Stop sleeping already. Boss wants us to meet him in the wyrehal, since he’s starving and they don't allow individual people in. Apparently, we gotta go in as a group if we want to be served our midday meal.” 

Opening her eyes, an irritating grin greeted her, one that she had seen way too much of in the recent weeks. Yiun. Why the gods had seen it fit to stick her with the single most cheerful person in history (and yes, she had checked) she had no idea. And she knew from experience that he would not leave her alone without having completed his objective, not with his utter loyalty and single minded determination, a bit too much like her old village mutts in the worst ways. Sighing heavily, she picked herself off the ground, brushing off any grass that clung to her now unkempt uniform. There was no chance she was going to get in a nap now, and a hot meal didn't seem like the worst idea. 

“Fine. Let's get going. And get off that branch before you fall and break your leg. I’m not carrying your ass all the way across campus.”

Yiun simply winked at her and bounded off the branch he had been standing on, slamming onto the ground with such a resounding thump that Imrala was slightly afraid she’d actually have to take back her words, but a quick thumbs up from him was all the reassurance she needed that he was fine. “Was that a hint of worry I detected in your voice? I knew you didn’t hate me!” 

Rolling her eyes, she just set off in the direction of the wyrehal, setting a brisk pace so that Yiun would have to hurry to catch up with her. “I never said I hated you, just that I thought you were an utter dumbass. Important distinction.” 

“Hey, just because my grades aren't top of the class like yours doesn't mean I’m a dumbass!”, came the retort from her teammate, who quickly jogged up to match her stride. “Plus, if I was that dumb, I wouldnt be tied with you in sparring, would I?” 

“Don't try to hoodwink me. It’s 51-50. We both agreed that the incident with Professor Vameir didn't count.” Giving Yiun a light punch to the shoulder, she cut off any complaints of his with a quick wave of her hand. “We can save this for later. Lets not keep Kouros waiting now. I’m sure he’s already getting impatient, especially if he’s starving. We can spar after mealtime.” That seemed to shut him up for now, although she was quite certain he’d begin to blabber about something or another once they reached the center of the campus. Still, it was enough, and a nice hot plate of tzedoken over greair sounded fantastic right now. It was time to focus on getting food. She could always kick Yiun’s ass after she had eaten.


	3. The Tavern by the Cliffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A girl is saved by a bowl of soup.

Sreyal stared down the spear, steeling herself to her inevitable death. Her tired, bloody legs could not carry her any long. There was nowhere else to run anymore and no one left to fight, the last of her guard long dead. With her back pressed against the wood of the tavern wall, her hands quietly snaked into her back pouch and clasped onto the Uterye, the action hidden from view by her large robe. The resulting blast would kill everyone in the village and most in the neighboring ones, but there was no choice. If the Uterye fell into the wrong hands, those lost lives would seem like a pittance. 

“I’ll give you one more chance, szoke. Hand it over, and you’re free to go wherever you want. Refuse, and you’ll wish for a quick death.” The voice of the bandit leader Fretir carried the low growl of a predator who knew his prey had been cornered. Glaring into his eyes with a burning defiance, she angrily spat back her answer. “I’d rather rot in the pits of Ifera than let you lay a single finger on it.” There was a temporary shock on the bandit leader's face, quickly replaced by a victorious smirk that spread onto the other members of his horde as he lifted the weapon up. “We’ll see how cocky you are after I break your arms.” 

Gripping the crystalline orb even more tightly, she quickly murmured a silent apology as a warmth began to fill her palm. But just before she could unleash her spell, a sudden voice popped up, breaking both her and the bandits concentration as they all looked to see who had just spoken. “Excuse me, but you kind of ruined my dinner by rudely knocking over the table and sending it onto the floor. I was quite looking forward to it, so could you just reimburse me?”

The voice belonged to a man that must have been no older than 20, with the eyes of a fool, hair the color of the uttery burnt chicken, and an youthful Northern face that carried a extremely stupid grin. He was clearly Xuen, although Sreyal wasn't sure what one would be doing so far west. Before this, she had not encountered a single Xuen outside of their homelands in Northern Darcia. The only plausible answer was that the stranger must have been some kind of merchant, even although his clothes were drab in comparison to those of the merchants she knew. Still, she was quite thankful for the distraction, as the bandit leader seemed even more confused by the Xuen’s boldness than she had been. Perhaps she could find a way to sneak out in the commotion.

Seeing as he hadn't gotten a response, the Xuen pointed at a puddle on the floor that had probably once been a delicious bowl of pvisao, speaking again with what was either extreme obliviousness or sheer idiocy. “That was my dinner. It used to be on a table in a bowl, and now it is all over the floor because of you. Plus, you and your group of friends have scared away the cooks and servers, so how am I going to get a replacement bowl? So please, I’d like you to give me back the coin I had spent.” As if to prove a point, he waved all around the upturned tavern, which was empty save for her, the bandits, the Xuen and a beautiful umber skinned woman, likely Rozalian, clad in similarly drab clothes, although Syeral could see a hint of purple near the nape of her neck. Such dyes were rare and expensive, a fact she knew from the clothing shops she frequented during her free time, strengthening her conviction that the pair were merchants. 

Utterly flabbergasted by sheer audacity of the request, Fretir seemed unsure whether to laugh or to simply run the halfwit through, glancing rapidly back at his equally confused underlings before sighing heavily, nodding his head at the mountain of a man that served his second in command. “I don't have time for this. Vterre, kill this idiot and burn his body in the hearth.” 

With the bandits distracted at the moment, Syeral’s grip around the Uterye tightened as she began to cast a spell. Time was of the essence. Perhaps there was a way to deal with the bandits and protect the innocents. But she was too slow, unable to utter even a single word before Vterre had closed the gap to the Xuen in the blink of an eye, bringing the mace down hard onto the face of his unprepared victim. Unable to stomach any more blood, she turned her head away as a loud CLANG rang throughout the room. 

Wait, a clang? That's not right.

Whirling her head back, she did not see Vterre holding a bloody mace, standing over a headless corpse. Instead, the Xuen seemed completely unharmed by the blow, more annoyed than injured. The mace, however, had been dented beyond repair. In a furious rage, the second in command threw down the broken weapon and began to swing wildly, a flurry of fists that the Xuen gracefully bobbed and weaved as he called out to his companion. “Hey, a little help here? You’re supposed to have my back, yknow.”

The beautiful Rozalian raised one languid eye at the Xuen, scoffing at his request. “You and your dumb hero complex got into this mess by yourself, so get out of it yourself. Don't tell me a couple of bandits are giving you trouble, dumbass.” Shooting one last disdainful look at the sight in front of her, she turned her attention back toward the small book that she had been reading. 

From what she could see, the Xuen only stuck his tongue at her in response, still barely paying any attention to the attacks of Vterre. After a few more seconds of dodging, he seemed to tire of the whole affair, simply letting the giant bandit’s fist slam into his face with a dull thud, as if it had made contact with a solid wall. Gazing into the shocked eyes of his opponent, the Xuen glumly shook his head. “Sorry, the fun is over. Wish it could have lasted a little longer, but this is goodbye.” In one smooth movement, he tore off Vterre’s arm and flung it to the side, splashing the walls with red. Any scream of pain that might have come out died in the bloody hole where a throat should have been, as the now dead bandit collapsed onto the ground. 

“VTERRE! NO!”

The bandits immediately charged the Xuen, led by a raving Fretir, thirsting for the blood of the one who had killed their comrade. These bandits have been strong enough to take down her guard, but for some reason, Syeral felt that they were running straight to their deaths. And she was right. In the blink of an eye, the air was filled with a red mist, as the floor of the tavern was suddenly filled with the shredded remains of what was once her pursuers. 

With the battle over, the Rozalian seemed to finally tear her eyes away from her book and place them squarely onto Sreyal, as if they were staring into her very soul. After a few seconds of silence, the woman turned her head and nodded at her companion. “You should help that girl up, imbecile. Didnt you intervene on her behalf?” 

“No, I did it because I was hungry. And now my new boots are completely ruined. Don't you know how long it takes for blood to be cleaned off? Of course not. It’s not like you do anything outside of reading your texts anyway.” The Xuen seemed to shoot an annoyed glare, before walking over the corpses and stretching his hand out at Syeral. “Hello miss uhm….blondilocks? Can you walk? If you need help, we can take you to Wterio so you can get patched up. My friend and I are headed to Oscedor, so it’d be on the way.” There was a cheerful lilt to his voice that instinctively made her want to trust him, which only starkly contrasted what she had seen earlier. Either the Xuen had no idea of his strength, or he did and preferred to be underestimated. She wasn't sure which was more terrifying. 

Still, as uneasy as Syeral felt, she had to accept the offer. Her mount was long dead, as was her protection. The roads were dangerous and in her current state, she made for an easy mark. Plus, why help her if they wished to harm her? Pushing her concerns to the back, she took the Xuens hand, pulling herself to an unsteady upright position. “Thank you. I would appreciate that. And my name is Melagi.” Fortunately, her priestess garb had been long discarded in favor of a much blander outfit, so that there was no way to tell her apart from a normal village girl. Not much of a loss either, considering how constricting those clothes had been.

The Xuen grinned back in response, a smile so bright it could have compared to the light of the Goddess herself. “It's nice to meet you, Melagi! I’m Rai, and my rather irritable companion there is Temoro. ” That only got a light grunt out of Temoro, who had silently made her way to the door. “We should leave soon. It’s still a half day ride, and the sky is already darkening.” 

Nodding lightly, Syeral let herself lean on Rai’s shoulder as they exited the tavern, leaving behind a room stained crimson. There was a small pang of guilt in her heart for her lie, but she ignored it, certain that her two saviors would be fine judging from what had just happened. And it didn't matter in the end. After this, they would never cross paths again anyway.

\--------------------

The light of the fire illuminated the campsite, one small flicker of light in an endless dark. Syeral sat on a log, gently nibbling on mertu as her wounds were being patched up by Temoro. It felt a little shameful that she didn't know how to use healing magic, but the Rozalian was quite adept, deftly weaving the bandages together over her bloody legs as a quiet set in at the campsite. She was glad for the silence, as Rai had somehow managed to talk her ear off on the ride here, and surely would have done so again if he was not currently too preoccupied with checking the outskirts for any signs of danger. Full for the first time in a week, she let her guard down slightly, allowing herself to relax a little as her wounds were tended to. Now that survival was not at the forefront of her mind, her curiosity was piqued. Just who and what were her saviors? “If it's not too rude, may I ask what you two are doing in this land? I thought you were merchants, but I didn't see any wares for sale, and your companion fights much too well to be any ordinary merchant.”

The question only drew a rather nonplussed look from Temoro, who paused slightly as she seemed to consider how to best answer the question. “He and I are historians, to put it simply. We just wander around Darcia, recording any interesting oddities or historical marvels there are so that an account can be preserved for future generations. A lot of those sites end up in high danger areas, so we’re both proficient in combat.” The Rozalian’s voice carried an air of intelligence, every word measured and deliberate. It reminded Syeral of her favorite teachers back at the temple, when she was just a priestess in training. One of the very few things she missed during her time there. The memory filled her with a peace that she had not felt since the land had been calm, back before the invasion of Algeia. 

She remembered the first time that she had heard the name of the then small nation, only an oddity in the far east of Darcia that had somehow held off an attack from their much larger neighbors according to the gossip of her fellow priests. No one could have predicted how the borders of that small kingdom would expand so quickly, swallowing up other kingdoms like spilt ink on a map. In the year since, she had heard much more alarming rumors. How Algeia had already conquered the majority of Eastern Darcia as the great houses crumbled before their might, with most choosing to join to save their hides. How those that attempted to resist were put to the sword, slaughtered to the very last person as an example. What had happened in the ruin of Rozenthal, once the jewel of the land, still sent shivers down her spine. And most of all, whispers of the four monsters that led the Algeian army - a ghost who had single handedly eradicated all the assassin guilds in the land, a being of pure evil who was said to be the incarnation of the devil itself, a mage said to have a power that rivaled the gods, and the prince who served as their leader, said to be imbued with the ability to change the future. All of whom were said to have body counts in the thousands.

Sheer dumb luck, or the mercy of the goddess as some people liked to call it, had allowed her to avoid any encounters with any of them, but it was likely only a matter of time. She could only hope that they would be stopped soon. Looking back at the Rozalian, she wondered if both her and her companion had fled their homelands, driven out by the invaders like so many of the refugees that had taken stops at her temple. It might have been foolish to worry about two people that Syeral would likely never see again, but she could not help herself. She had to ask. “What if the oddities are in Eastern Darcia? I’ve heard Algeia has ramped up its war efforts recently, so I've heard there’s been a lot more skirmishes. They say the 4 monsters of the Algerian Empire are ruthless blood-thirsty butchers. If you run into any of them...” Her voice trailed off, as she wasnt sure what to say next.

Temoro seemed to almost smile, the first time she had shown some kind of emotion outside of indifferent boredom towards her since they had met. “There’s no need to fret. So far, all the Algeian patrols that we have encountered have respected our neutrality. And if we run into one of those monsters, well, I suppose I’ve lived a good life.” There was a nonchalance to death in her voice that must’ve the result of countless brushes with death. With the bandage all tied up, she stood up and grabbed her own mertu, quickly demolishing it in 3 large bits. “You should get some rest soon, considering all the company you had earlier. It’s getting pretty late anyway.”

The rustling of leaves interrupted their conversation as Rai appeared out of the trees, the glow of the fire revealing his goofy smile once more. “Now, we dont need to sleep just yet. I found this one area with a beautiful view we should check out. It’s not too far from here.” Waving excitedly, he turned back into the trees, disappearing in the foliage.  
Temoro seemed to raise an eyebrow at her, before lighting some torches before putting out the fire. “Well, I suppose we should make sure he doesn’t get lost.” Handing over a torch, the Rozalian disappeared after her companion.  
Gingerly getting off the log, Syeral took a few steps, checking for any lingering aches. But Temoro had done her job well, exceptionally so. She felt refreshed, new even. Taking in a deep breath, she plunged into the woods, heading after the two historians.

\--------------------------

After what seemed like a lifetime of fighting through shrubbery, the trees suddenly gave way to a clearing, high up the mountain that they were camping on. Both of the historians were already there, standing on the end of a cliff as they stared far into the horizon, entranced by the view. She could hardly blame them. The starry night sky was clearly visible from here, as was the vast plains of Western Darcia, dotted with lights as if it were trying to mirror the sky above. Walking over to the pair, Syeral stood at the edge of the cliff with them, taking in the sight as well.  
As she gazed out into the horizon, Rai nodded silently, his eyes still focused into the distance. “It’s breathtaking, isn’t it? People can expound the beauty of the land all they want in text, but nothing really compares to being able to simply see it yourself.” There was a conviction in his voice that she couldn't argue against. All the splendor of the ornate Ituzer Temple could not compare to the view in front of her. If she had known how beautiful the countryside was, perhaps she would’ve chosen to be an adventurer instead of a priestess. Then again, she probably would’ve preferred anything to being a priestess.

Enchanted by the view, Syeral had not realized how dangerously close to the edge she was, until suddenly the ground beneath her feet gave way, plummeting her into the valley below as her torch flew out of her hand. She desperately tried to grasp onto something, anything, but her pouch had somehow separated from her body and there were no handholds that she could get a good grip on. As panic began to set it, the tears began to flow. She had survived all that hardship just to die here? It would be too cruel. 

And just as suddenly as her fall had begun, it began to gradually slow, until she could feel that she was just floating in mid air, unable to see anything except the stars above. As her nerves began to calm down slightly, there was a sensation that she was being lifted back up, the very top of the cliff becoming larger and larger until she could see the faces of Rai and Temoro, one grinning lightly, the other a stoic mask. 

The Rozalian seemed to shoot a single raised eyebrow at her compatriot before a light blue glow began to emanate from her palm, creating a platform of soft light under Syeral. “Didnt I tell you preparing that was a good idea? Well, I suppose I was only half right. I did think it would’ve been you who needed saving though.” With a single flick of the wrist, Temoro brought the construct over the cliff and back onto the clearing before dissipating it, lightly dropping Syeral onto solid ground.

As they walked over, Rai picked up the pouch that had been separated from her and offered it back, which she nearly ripped from his grasp. The action seemed to raise the eyebrows of the historians, their curiosity piqued at what precious item could have been inside. Affixing the pouch back onto her belt, Syeral coughed nervously as she attempted to explain her reaction. “I'm sorry about that. It's just, the pouch contains all my money, as well as a precious heirloom from my father. My mother died young, so it’s the last gift he ever gave me before he was conscripted, and the only thing I have left to remember him by.” Rubbing the tears from her eyes, she sniffled quietly in order to sell the lie better. Well, more of a half-truth, really. Her mother had passed away when she was young, and her father had been called into the army, which had forced her to join the local temple in order to survive. It wasn't as if she was selling a complete fib. 

The answer seemed to satisfy the duo, as Temoro nodded coolly. “Yes, I can see why that would be of the utmost importance for you.” Her voice almost seemed to carry a hint of nostalgia, which quickly dissipated into the air as she seemed to refocus, the intelligence, pragmatic tone setting back into her voice. “Let’s head back now to get some rest. An early departure tomorrow is necessary in order to make good time to Wtero.” 

Syeral let herself be lifted into the air, still quite wobbly from the fall. Rai carried her effortlessly, giving her the strangely secure feeling of being held by her father, immediately triggering a yawn. After encountering two brushes with death in the same day, a good night sleep sounded wonderful. She only hoped that the next day would be peaceful for once. That much, she deserved. With that last though, she slowly drifted off into the land of dreams.

If she had been awake, perhaps Syeral would've noticed the quick flash of smoke that appeared and disappeared in Temoro’s palm.

\-----------------------------------

The ride to Wtero had been uneventful, the only noise for most of the journey coming from Rai’s chattering. That had gotten so bad that Syeral was glad she was riding with Temoro instead, as she could only imagine how annoying it would've been to hear that endless stream of words up close. Still, considering the last week or so, an overly chatty trip ranked quite low on her scale of unpleasant experiences. 

Their roads finally diverged once they reached the bustling center of all things beautiful, as Oscedor was too far south for her to keep accompanying the duo. She had even wanted to help patch up their clothes, one of her few talents, but the offer had declined politely. With one last goodbye, Syeral watched Rai and Temoro disappear into the beautifully adored crowd, two dull spots melting into a canvas of color, leaving her life once and for all. 

Now, it was time for the next part of her journey. All she needed to do now was……..what was it that she needed to do? For some strange reason, her memories of the past felt like they were being shrouded by fog. Any attempt at grasping something solid just slipped through her fingers. As she mentally waded through the mist, a thought hit her. Her pouch. 

Turning swiftly, she opened up her pouch revealing a rather hefty bag of gold coins and a single ornate rosary. The wedding present her mother had given her father. Gently picking the heirloom up, she remembered her fathers last words to her, to always follow her heart. And suddenly, everything cleared up like a summer day. She knew her purpose, to come to this city, the center of fashion in Darcia, become a tailor and one day open up her own shop. 

Saying a silent yet strangely familiar prayer to the goddess, Syeral placed the rosary back into the pouch. Her long forgotten dreams once again in sight, she took the first steps to her future.

\----------------------

They had only gotten about an hour's ride before the Xuen’s stomach began to grumble, which slightly dampened his normally cheerful spirit. Slumping his shoulders, he began to complain like a petulant child. “Ahhhhhh, I'm starving. When can we find a place to eat? We should’ve gotten some food back in the city, but noooooo, there wasnt enough time to stop and grab a bite.”

The Rozalian simply just shot her companion an irritated look, having heard this same spiel countless times before. “Is your stomach a bottomless pit or something? Actually, I dont care about that. Do you have it?” She stretched her hand towards her companion, waiting for him to hand over the object in question. 

That seemed to stop the Xuen’s complaining, as he simply chuckled before reaching back and pulling out a pouch that he promptly tossed over to her. “Did you really need to ask? Of course I do. It was quite easy, really. Suppose it never occurred to that priestess that we could lie too. Isn't that right, Imrala, or should I say ‘Temoro’?” 

Imrala didn’t even acknowledge the question, instead opening the pouch to reveal the Uterye nestled inside. Raising the grapefruit sized orb up to her eyes, she could feel the sheer density of the magic swirling inside it, more than enough to leave the entire continent a smoking crater if she willed it. “So this is what Kouros wanted us to pick up during our trip here. I can see why he wanted it out of the Caedrich’s hands so badly. This could’ve been quite the obstacle in our conquest.” Putting the artifact back into the pouch, she made a mental note to study it more when she had the time. Turning her attention back to the other “historian”, she smirked mirthfully at him, a rather rare thing for her. “Speaking of that girl, she actually seemed worried about what would happen if we met one of the monsters of the Algeian Empire during our travels. Isn't that quite amusing, Yiun?”

Upon hearing that, her comrade bursted out in a wild laughter, shaking so hard that he had to hold the neck of his mount in order to not fall off. “Really? I mean, I do meet one every day when I look in the mirror. Hopefully that won't worry her too much, not that she’ll remember us.” Having finally recovered from the laughing fit, he mirthfully rubbed a tear away from his eyes. “Good thing she didn’t say that to me, or I would've blown our cover immediately.” He seemed to shiver at his own words, clearly a little perturbed by the thought. If nothing else, she had to admit he was truly selfless, always putting the mission above all.

That got an exasperated roll of the eyes from Imrala, although she couldn't help herself from smiling as well. “You’re still hung up on that, you idiot? I wonder how disappointed people would be to find out the incarnation of the devil itself is a giant softie. It would have been much easier to just murder her and dump the dead body off the cliff, you know?” She was still a little miffed by how complicated their plan had ended up being, especially when the bandits had forced them to adapt on the fly. Why Yiun always insisted on limiting needless deaths instead of maximizing efficiency outside of battle she never understood, even if she abided it due to their friendship. Despite how easygoing he normally was, it was the only thing that she simply could not get him to budge on.

The only response she got was a nonchalant shrug from Yiun, though there was a slight shiver down his spine as he seemed perturbed by the thought. “What we did worked out fine. The fake memories were implanted and we got what we wanted in the end, didn't we? Plus, I'm sure that girl will be happier in her new life as a tailor anyway. The fake pouch had plenty of money in it, and if our intel was to be believed, she had much more passion towards clothing than prayer.” Not wanting to stay on the topic much longer, he instead began to praise his fellow traveler. “I will admit that the move to collapse the cliff under her was genius. That's why you’re Boss’s right hand, not me.” As those fawning words rolled off his tongue, he smiled admiringly towards her. 

“You should know by now that cheap flattery doesn't work on me. We’re not stopping at the nearest village for food. No stops till Oscedor, you quarterwit.” Imrala’s rebuff wiped the smile off of Yiun, a pout taking its place, something that she had also seen before. Enough times that she knew he’d get over it soon enough. “And dont say I’m the right hand of Kouros. You know as well as I do that he values you, me and Vailus equally.”

That drew a defeated sigh from Yiun, who knew that he already had lost the argument. “Yeah, you’re right. Speaking of Vailus, we should probably get to Oscedor before she gets tired of waiting for us and decides to make a few more ghosts. Let's get going!” As if hit by a sudden burst of energy, he shot straight up and swiftly spurred his mount on, kicking up a storm of dust as he started to fly down the road. 

As she waved away some of the dust, Imrala decided to glance back at Wtero, thinking about the former priestess they had met. If the girl was still in the city when they came again, Imrala hoped that they would surrender without too much resistance. It would be a shame to have given her a new life just to take it away so soon. 

Pushing the thought out of her head, the great mage of the Algeain Empire gave one last look at the elegant marble walls that she knew she would see again soon, before turning back to the road and giving chase to her fellow general, the pair’s mounts galloping through the lands that would soon be theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> Will be updated sporadically. Feel free to add feedback or criticism if you want


End file.
